"No, suh. He'd get ketched, and he knows it. Anyway, suh, the Lieutenant's a man who'll use savvy before he uses fightin' or runnin'. He'll run if need be, and fight if he's ketched, but he'll try to lose "em. rd guess, suh, that he'll head into the Wind River Mountains."
"Wild country, suh. Hidin" places. He can travel for miles under cover of canyons or brush. You could hide an army up there, suh, and he knows it." "Major," Cahill said, "about Lieutenant Brian knowing his enemy, sir. He knows Reuben Kelsey, sir."
"Kelsey?" Devereaux spoke impatiently.
"Lieutenant, Reuben Kelsey is in Kansas or Missouri, or perhaps in Kentucky."
"Do we know that, sir? Kelsey knows this part of the country, and where could he cause more trouble than here?
Begging your pardon, sir, but Lieutenant Brian's family were killed by the Indians within a few miles of here. Kelsey's folks were killed at the same time. They met after the massacre and made their way back to Laramie together."
"That's all supposition, Lieutenant. We have no reason to think Kelsey is out here at all. In fact, he is generally believed to have been killed."
"Yes, sir. It was just a thought, sir."
Turpenning had been listening. "That would explain somethin', suh. That Kelsey now-he's a big man, I hear."
"He is. About six-two, and he weighs around two hundred and forty pounds," Cahill replied.
"Well, suh, this man who leads them renygades makes a deeper track than any man in our outfit. He's a big man, suh-easy on his feet, but heavy." "Nonsensel Kelsey operates in the East. Forget him and get down to business." He straightened up. "Mount your men, Cahill. We're going to try to catch up. If we do, we'll go into battle. Maybe we can pin them down, and if we can't we can hold them up long enough for Brian to escape, if that is what he is trying to do."
When Turpenning had gone Cahill said, "Then you don't suspect Lieutenant Brian?"
"Lieutenant Cahill, Lieutenant Brian's post is at Fort Laramie, the term of his leave has expired or is about to expire, and he is proceeding in the opposite direction. He has assumed command, on his own initiative, of an army ambulance and a detachment under special orders, and he has caused that detachment to leave its prescribed line of march" "And in so doing,"
Cahill suggested, "he has saved your daughter's life." "And also," Major Devereaux replied, "taken an army payroll of sixty thousand dollars."
Cahill was astounded. "Sixty thousand?
Sir, I had no idea!" "I understand that, Lieutenant. I hope you will also consider the fact that Lieutenant Brian, no matter how efficient as an officer, is also a foot-loose adventurer with no known ties, and that such a sum of money has been a temptation to men with more secure relationships.
"I repeat, Lieutenant, I suspect nobody. I am merely considering all the possibilities. You recognize the fact that some explanations are in order, do you not?"
"Yes, sir," Cahill admitted, "I do."
Major Mark Devereaux scanned the area as they moved forward. It was exhilarating. The air was fresh and cool, the country already had the greenish cast of new grass growing. He walked his command for a short distance, then cantered for half a mile. Turpenning, with two men, was ranging far ahead to provide warning when they sighted the renegades.
Major Devereaux eased in the saddle.
Advancing years had not increased his weight, and he now weighed two pounds less than on the day he married, a fact of which be was proud, but which he never mentioned. Though his income was not large, his uniforms were tailored by the best tailor he could find; and no man at any post where he had served could recall seeing him unshaved. Several times he had been offered staff positions that might have led to promotion, but he preferred the field. As he grew older the opportunities grew fewer.
Staff positions, he noticed, were given more often to easier men, men less abrasive than himself.
Generals had a way of wanting men about them who were easy to be with, and whose efficiency would not make them uncomfortable.
Lieutenant Tenadore Brian, he thought, might be an exception to that rule. He had a way of being damn good at whatever he was doing, without being obtrusive about it. Handsome as he was, and with his background of travel, it was a wonder he had not become an attach6 at some embassy. Major Devereaux said as much to Cahill. "Oh, he wouldn't have it, sir," Cahill replied. "I happen to know from other sources that he was offered something of the kind.
He's like yourself, sir, he prefers the frontier, and active soldiering."
After a moment he added, "He speaks five or six languages, sir, and reads them as well."
"That's not altogether unusual," Devereaux commented, "I've learned never to be surprised at the men I meet on the frontier. The first sergeant of Company K of the First Cavalry was a Russian nobleman, and we have a man in this outfit who was an officer in the Austrian army."
"Is that so?" Cahill was intrigued. "Now, who would that be?" Devereaux smiled. "I will leave that one to puzzle you, Lieutenant. He doesn't want anyone to know, and has no idea that I do."
"How did you find out?"
"Remember that viscount who reviewed the troops before they came west? That was his brother. He told me in confidence."
They fell silent, hearing only the beat of hoofs on the turf, as the dust rose from the thin grass.
Mark Devereaux was thinking of Mary. Where was she now? Was she frightened? Oddly, for all his dislike of Ten Brian, he was reassured by the thought that she was with him. Whatever one might think of him, he had always conducted himself as a gentleman. He remembered something he had heard the man say when an officer of another unit had resigned his commission over a love affair with a prostitute.
"Right or wrong," Brian had said flatly, "I respect him for his action. He respects the woman, and that is as it should be. Any woman I am with"-he paused a moment "would be treated as a lady, no matter who or what she was." Damn it all, Devereaux said to himself, when there is so much about the man that 1 respect, why do 1 dislike him?
They were gaining on the renegades. Even Devereaux could see the increasing freshness of the tracks. Did they know they were pursued? He asked himself that question and could come to no conclusion. So far there was no indication of any change of route.
Twice he halted the column for short breaks, each time choosing a spot with cover and some shade.
At the second stop he ordered coffee, and while the men drank it he listened to Turpenning's report.
"It'll be dark in an hour, sub, but they've gone into camp. Built theirselves some fires, and settled down like they figured to have themselves a time"
"Guards posted?"
"Yes, suh. Leastways they taken position.
I got close enough for that. Picked theirselves some good spots, good cover, and all the country a body would want to look over."
Devereaux studied the Tennessean thoughtfully.
"What's the matter, "Iurpenning? Is there something about it you don't like?" "Yes, suh. There surely is. Somethin" about it feels wrong, you see? Like maybe they've got that ambulance treed, or somethin' up their sleeves. I can't put a finger on what's wrong, but it's surely there."
"All right. I'll accept your word." He knew too much about such men not to recognize their sensitivity to a situation. He had had the same feeling himself on several occasions, and had ignored it to his cost. "Turpenning," he said now, "you need rest and I want you to get it. At the same time I need a report on that camp, and I need a couple of men who could scout around and see if they do have the ambulance pinned down. You've worked with a good many of my men. Who would you suggest?" Devereaux had his own ideas, but the Tennessean had worked with most of the outfit, and he wanted his opinion.
"Well, suh, with Gogarty gone-and he was one of the best-there's Chancel, Boner, and Halleck, all three good men."
Devereaux was startled. Stub Boner had been a hunter, Halleck was a soldier who had served in Dakoto and Wisconsin, knew Indians and their ways, and spoke several tongues
. . . but Chancel?
Turpenning answered the question before it was asked. "You might be a-wonderin' about Chancel," he said; "but the man's knowin', suh, mighty knowin'. His ears is uncanny good, an' he don't waste no moves.
He's got less experience in this country, but a-plenty when it comes to savvy. I been on the scout with him a couple of times, an' I fit Injuns alongside him. He shoots careful, wastes no lead, and never shoots until he's got him a target dead in his sights."
"Thank you, Turpenning. Now get yourself some more coffee and then catch some sleep. You're apt to need it."
He sipped his own coffee, making it last.
Well, one never knew. Chancel was the Austrian lieutenant, now a corporal. He sent for him.
Corporal Chancel carried himself well. He was a lean, compact man, an excellent horseman and rifle shot. His military background became apparent soon after he joined up, and also his natural gift for leadership. The men liked him, respected his knowledge, and his lack of desire to impress. "Chancel," Major Devereaux said, "I want you to go on the scout." He indicated the area. "I want you to go around the renegade camp. Be careful, for some of those men are woodsmen from birth. Swing around and see if you can find the ambulance or any of our people. Unless there is some development we won't move from here until almost daybreak, when we go into the camp. Report to me, and if I am not available, to Lieutenant Cahill." "Yes, sir."
"And Corporal, remember that whoever is in command over there is no fool." "No, sir. All right, sir."
Twice he climbed the gentle slope to look in the direction of the renegade camp. The fires were burning brightly, and the first time he thought he saw movement about them. The second time he saw nothing but the fires. He would wait until the last hour before dawn, and then move in. He had dozed off when a hand shook him. "Sir, they've fooled us.
They're gone."
"Gone?"
"Yes, sir." It was Halleck who had awakened him. "It was no camp, sir . . . just the fires. Turp could tell better than me, but I'd say they left two or three men behind to keep the fires going and show some movement about. Then they just slipped away."
"Thank you, Halleck. Is Chancel back?"
"No, sir, and it's coming on for day. I am worried, sir, him being a foreigner, and all."
"Private Halleck, at least thirty per cent of this command is foreign, as you put it. And some of our best men are among them."
When he was gone, Devereaux considered the possibilities for a few moments, then he lay down, pulled his blankets around him, and fell promptly to sleep. A good soldier eats when there is food, never stands when he can sit, and never stays awake when he can sleep . . . as long as it doesn't interfere with his duty.
He was awakened by the smell of wood burning, and saw Turpenning squatted beside a fire he had recently kindled. The coffeepot was on a rock in the center of the flames.
"Mornin', suh. I been out for a look-see."
"Yes?"
"No camp . . . just a blind. They pulled out fast. I'his here was to hold you whilst they got away. And they're onto somethin', suh. They found some sign, but noways enough."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, suh, those boys are mighty handy, but they sure ain't found any kind of a trail. The way they're scoutin' the country, they aint rightly sure what happened. Whatever they found, they lost.
That Lieutenant Brian, suh, he's a cagey one."
"How many men do they have?"
"Nigh onto forty. That's a sort of guess, but I figured by the rifle stacks an' the length of the picket line for their horses."
"You found their camp, then?"
"Yes, suh. They built up those fires, an' then they pulled their freight. They went on about four, five mile up the country and made a dark camp. They hadn't been gone no more'n thuty minutes when I come upon it."
"Is Chancel back?"
"No, sub. Not hide nor hair."
"Thank you, Turpenning. I'll have that coffee now" He would gain on them during the day. The fact that they had to find a trail would restrict their movements. This they would understand as well as he, and they would know he would catch up . . . hence an ambush.
It was the logical step. They could not escape him and find the fugitives, too, so they would attempt an ambush to inflict casualties and make him more cautious.
As he was finishing his breakfast, Chancel appeared.
"Fill your cup, Chancel, and sit down," he said.
"I'll have your report." "Yes, sir. I found the ambulance, sir." Without waiting for comment, he continued. "Very well hidden, sir, in a copse almost impossible to find. It was the grazing where the horses cropped grass-that helped. "They had a lookout posted and they sighted the enemy, stripped the ambulance of food and whatever they could use, mounted the horses, and left."
"Any sign of the women?"
"Yes, sir. Two of them, sir. I found their trail, followed it as far as a stream, then lost it."
"Had others found the trail?"
"Yes, sir. I think they lost it, too."
Brian would try for Bridger, of course. By now that was evident. It would also be evident to the renegades, who would attempt to overtake them or cut them off. Brian knew this country-but how well did he know it? "Sir?"
"What is it, Chancel?"
"The enemy, sir. They know this country. Know it well. Several times they rode the easiest way .
. . but it was not always the easiest to find. Their leader knows what he is about, sir."
Mark Devereaux was not a man who hurried, and even now, with time and distance a matter of the greatest importance, he took his time, trying to figure out what procedures they might adopt.
All possible positions of ambush would have to be scouted, but these renegades had lived among Indians, and Indians had a way of choosing a spot for ambush in the last place one would suspect.
Devereaux rode up on the knoll with Turpenning and Chancel and studied the country while they pointed out its features. He swept the country carefully with his glasses, and then examined it at a closer range. Cahill rode up to join him, and Devereaux explained briefly the situation as it might develop. "We must guard against surprise.
Be especially careful in what seems to be open country. I want to pin them down and get them into a fire fight."
He turned. "Now, Chancel, take me to the ambulance, and I'll take Halleck along. Cahill, form up and move out, but get Turpenning and Boner well out in front. Use them, but don't rely only on them."
With Chancel leading the way, they rode swiftly.
As they neared the copse where the ambulance had been hidden Devereaux studied the terrain. The camp was small, and the ambulance was not visible at all until one was within a dozen feet of it. It would have to be snaked out, of course, and brought back. It would be useful in the event of wounded men. He went at once to the secret compartment. The gold was gone . .
. but he had expected that. Nevertheless, it had been his duty to see for himself. He walked up to higher ground. From here they could easily have seen the approach of the renegades and they would have had time to escape if they moved swiftly.
"Took me a time to find this place, sir,"
Chancel said. "It was not a simple thing."
"I can see that." Devereaux was studying the land as he spoke. He looked thoughtfully at the Wind River range, looming up to the west. "I wonder if there's any way over that," he said.
"Yes, sir," Halleck said. "It isn't easy, but a mountain man at Fort Laramie told me it could be done."
The South Pass country, which lay before them, was open after they passed the Beaver Rim. Broken country quickly petered out into rolling plains. A small group heading southwest for Fort Bridger would have a bad time of it. What would Brian do?
By mid-afternoon they had not come up to the renegades, and time was growing short. When they took a brief halt, Devereaux stepped down from the saddle and his knees sagged a little. For a moment he stood still, getting hold of himsel
f. There was a limit to what a man could do, he supposed, but he must be careful to show no weakness.
After a moment he walked to a fiat rock and sat down. Shadows were gathering in the mouths of the canyons.
What sunlight there was touched the remaining spots of snow high on the mountains. The air was cool, and amazingly fresh. Far off toward the west he could see several objects moving along the shoulder of a hill. He leveled his glasses . . . buffalo, half a dozen of them. It was late, and the buffalo would probably bed down somewhere in the vicinity. If the situation permitted, he might send several men out to get them. The buffalo meat would augment their rations, and might give him another day in which to work. Saving the payroll would be a permissible excuse for remaining out from the Fort that much longer. Turpenning and Halleck came in together.
"Found them, suh," Turpenning said with satisfaction. "They're camped under the Beaver Rim, only a few miles from here. They followed Twin Creek and skirted the foot of Limestone Mountain yonder. They're camped in a meadow about three-quarters of a mile below the Rim."
"The trail they followed is it guarded?"
"You just bet it is, suhl They got them four men staked out there, a-watchin' for us. But Halleck an' me, we scouted around some, an' we come on a game trail down the face of the rim."
"Can we make it?"
"Uh-huh. I mean, yes, suh. That there rim's about five hundred feet high, and she drops sheer from the top for maybe seventy-five, eighty feet, but there's a trail. It ain't for skittish folks, but we can make it." "Did you try it?"
"I did, sir," Halleck said. "I went down, all the way to Beaver Creek at the bottom. I went a-foot, sir, but horses will have no trouble." Here it was then. It might be an ambush, but they must risk it. A hard blow now might take the pressure off Brian, might give him just the chance needed to make a run for Bridger or to hole up somewhere in the mountains. He could settle with Brian afterward. It was a case of first things first. He turned to Cahill, "Lieutenant," he said, "give the men a hot meal. Pickets out, and good men. I want no slip-ups now. About four hours sleep, and we'll move out shortly after midnight."
Under the Sweetwater Rim (1971) Page 4
